


Ships that collide in the night

by loveinadoorway



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:24:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Not sure yet, One Shot for now</p><p>AUTHOR: technicolour66 / loveinadoorway</p><p>IMAGINE LOKI PROMPT (Tumblr): Imagine Loki as your next door neighbor, he tries to break into your house one evening when he drunkenly mistakes it for his own</p><p>RATING: M</p><p>NOTES/WARNINGS: Drunkenness. There might be more to this, just… not sure yet</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ships that collide in the night

1 am on Saturday night. Victoria Taylor was just finishing her annual Buffy rewatchathlon. Yes, she probably should have gone out with her friends instead, but truth be told, ever since she had caught the dick-for-brains she used to call boyfriend with her upstairs neighbour, she just hadn’t felt like going out. Besides, it was snowing in New York and while she was all for a white Christmas, she'd so much rather not try to negotiate sludge in heels.

The first hint that something was not as it should be was a soft, deep voice mumbling something unintelligible right in front of her door. Then there was a scratching noise and the mumbling rose in volume and somehow sounded more like swearing. The following slamming noise, like from a flat hand hitting the door in exasperation, brought her to the door.

Now, a sane person would have dialed 911. Or at least would’ve shoved a chair against the door. A sane person would definitely NOT have opened the door, like she did now.

Vick was stunned to see her neighbour. Her extremely icy, aloof neighbour. Drunk as a skunk, trying to push his key into her lock. And he hadn’t even noticed yet that the door was, in fact, open now. His tongue was peeking from his lips in concentration as he very unsteadily pushed the key forward into the lock that was now in fact a few feet to the side.

He stumbled forward and Victoria caught him awkwardly by the shoulder. He put out a hand to steady himself and that hand predictably landed smack on Vick’s left boob.

He peered up at her and blinked very slowly.

“Wh.. what are you doing in my apartment?” he asked, brow furrowed, clearly puzzled.

“My apartment. Mine. Yours is actually next door, Mr. Laufeyson,” Vick explained with a sigh and removed his hand from her boob. And what a nice hand it was, she briefly thought before dropping it like a hot potato.

He straightened up, attempting to be suave and elegant, but failing just this side of adorably so.

“I beg your puh.. pardon. Clearly.. you mmmust be mistaken. I know mmmy apartment and it is …” he made an expansive gesture with his arms and almost keeled over. “It is here. Somewhere. It was here whuh.. when I left this afternoon. See?”

She gently took his arm and steered him into to the hall.

“This, here? THIS is your apartment, Mr. Laufeyson,” Vick said firmly, pointing to the left.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Around 400% sure. Now, please, go home and by all that is holy, sleep it off!”

Vick went back into her own apartment and firmly closed the door. So not thinking about that hand on that boob, oh no, sir.

She briefly leaned against her door with a sigh. There had been something curiously endearing about the man. The puzzled expression, coupled with the attempt to sound dignified. As she was walking towards her living room, Vick suddenly heard loud swearing from the hall. She turned around and resignedly opened the door again.

Her neighbour was standing in front of her door again, his expression somewhere between helplessness and rage.

“I appear to have buh.. broken off mmmy key,” he slurred, holding the offending remains aloft.

She shook her head. Yeah, sure. He would have. Maybe she should have offered some assistance with the door, then she wouldn’t be in this mess now. She couldn’t very well leave him to his own devices. In that state. At 1 am.

“Come on in, I’ll see if I can find someone to fix it for you at this time of night.”

He was swaying gently to and fro and frowned.

“I’m… I think I am d… drunk.”

With that, he shot Vick a look of such puzzled puppy-doggishness that her heart just melted.

“Erm, yes, newsflash, Mr. Laufeyson, that is actually rather noticeable.”

“Lllllloki,” the man slurred.

“I beg your pardon?”

“S’mynameyouknow,” her neighbour replied, wobbling slightly as he earnestly and emphatically nodded.

She once more gently grabbed his arm and pulled Loki (Loki? Seriously? His parents hate him, or what?) into her living room.

“You know, I think you best just sleep it off and we tackle the issue of your lock tomorrow, when you’re more yourself again, shall we?”

With that she steered him towards the sofa, helped him to take his shoes off, somehow managed to settle him down comfortably, draped a blanket over him and bid the man good night.

She curled up in her own bed and drifted off, maybe dwelling a little bit too long on how Loki’s body had felt all nice and warm and firm when she had bedded him down. Or how his hand had felt on her breast. Or how green his eyes were. And the way he had licked his lips.

What felt like only seconds later, the other side of the bed dipped and a very warm, very nicely firm body draped itself all over and around her. Vick should have protested, of course, but truth be told, it felt good and she was beyond tired, so she just decided to let it slide.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my bed?” A sleep-rough, but very icy voice inquired, while strong fingers gripped her shoulder and were shaking her.

“Oh come on, are you STILL drunk? MY apartment. MY bed. YOUR inability to hold your liquor. YOUR bad for breaking off the key in your lock. Jumpin’ Jaysus on a pogo stick, this settles it. That was the last time I ever helped out a drunk neighbour,” Vick spat, while she scrambled from the bed and stormed from the bedroom.

A very sombre looking Loki walked out of her bedroom a few minutes later, clothes rumpled, but apparently awake and only a little the worse for wear.

“I… uh… I apologize, Ms. … Taylor, is it? I appear to have been unforgivably drunk and likewise unforgivably clumsy. Also, given the blanket and pillows on the sofa here, I would guess that I was not, in fact, invited to sleep in your bed. My sincerest apologies.”

Vick slammed a mug of extra strong java on the kitchen counter in front of Loki.

“Yeah, well, I was just too tired to argue with your drunk ass,” she all but growled at the man.

“I had best be going, then,” Loki said, very quietly, and walked to the door.

His hand on the doorknob, he turned to Vick. His face was completely unreadable. His free hand was clenching and unclenching.

“Would you… might you…,” he took a deep breath, “Would you care to have dinner with me? Let me make it up to you somehow? Maybe?”

Vick hesitated. Then she recalled the way he had felt, entangled with her body. The way his long frame had fitted so easily against hers. Maybe… maybe he wasn’t a dick-for-brains. Her bad streak surely had to end sometime. And maybe now was as good as any time for her to try something new. After all, it was the season to be jolly, right?

“Love to. Monday alright with you?”


End file.
